Hey, Seth Christenfeld: I'm afraid I can't do much for your first two nightmares, but to alleviate the third, you'll have to enter The Invitational more often.
(John Kammer, Herndon) confirmed to me after he won a Blind T-shirt the, yes indeed, his denied print entry was "the Mail came!" Still one of my all time favorite SI entries.
Next time we need to differentiate playboy centerfolds, I hope we pick a different month. Something weird about hearing one's name used in such a reference as this. May I recommend September? I have yet to meet anyone named September.
Damn! I've long liked that name. Too bad that several well-publicized shrews ruined it. I predict that the name will regain popularity....in about 25 years.
All my magazine work is free for viewing online and won't get you fired for accessing it at work. It's all about fire and building codes and historic fires. I guess if that's what floats your boat.... just don't tell me about it.
Years ago, when my wife was a teaching assistant, one of her students said he had to miss a class because "he had water on his artificial knee". Turns out, that's a real and legitimate condition.
I’m mostly with you on fat, but the very article you linked to states:
More important, not all fats are alike. Saturated fat, found mainly in meat and dairy foods, contributes to clogged arteries and cardiovascular disease.
Speaking of video porn and premature ejaculation. I believe I mentioned my brief dalliance with porn here a while back. As the writer of an erotic epic (at least of the scenes/transitions to and from the bed and kitchen countertop; the male actor's ostensible role was as a countertop installer --- don't ask) --- I may have also mentioned my uh...professional diligence...in being on the set daily and finding (to my utter disappointment...) that the experience was almost completely nonsexual and certainly not titillating. Somehow, the sight of the naked-as-jaybird actors casually chatting in between puffs on what I assume were cigarettes or being put through their paces by the director killed the buzz (and everything else). Might say I was completely deflated.
Funny you should mention the countertop. Or at least wryly amusing in the ways of Hollywood. If I remember correctly, it was a laminate of some kind. But since the "set" was the director's house and he apparently wanted/needed a new kitchen countertop (charged to the film's budget, of course), the reason the male actor had the (momentary) role of a would-be installer was probably for the necessary verisimilitude.
Funny you should mention "soundtrack." While there was some minimal incidental music to presumably give it a much-needed touch of sophistication (in vain, I might add) --- what was far more interesting from an audio or sound standpoint was post-production dubbing. Apparently the moaning, groaning and other vaguely sex-induced noises required from the actors weren't deemed sufficiently voluminous or erotic enough ("realistic" is never the point here) especially at the supposed uh...climactic moments...which numbered (as I recall) at least four in a relatively short period of time. I guess even faking it four times would tend to take its toll on those supposed sex-induced noises.
Going for the "Nice Try" degrees of separation award here. Hands down (and I have had the pleasure of momentarily spiking my cholesterol on pastrami sandwiches from all the "best" places in the Apple) -- THE best is (was --- it's been awhile) the no. 19 from Langer's Deli in LA's Westlake neighborhood, diagonally across from MacArthur Park. Yes, that "MacArthur Park" wherein songwriter Jimmy Webb mystifyingly lyricizes (among other things), "... Someone left the cake out in the rain..." (and, in so doing, unaccountably gave actor Richard Harris a hit). Which in turn ---and here comes the satisfying, if not astounding conclusion --- is the ditty dubbed by Dave Barry (yes, that Dave Barry) as the "worst song ever written" with "the worst lyrics" ("Dave Barry’s Book Of Bad Songs").
Hey, Seth Christenfeld: I'm afraid I can't do much for your first two nightmares, but to alleviate the third, you'll have to enter The Invitational more often.
I try! I just have to come up with things!
The mail came
... worth the wait.
I believe that was one of John Kammerer’s entries.
(John Kammer, Herndon) confirmed to me after he won a Blind T-shirt the, yes indeed, his denied print entry was "the Mail came!" Still one of my all time favorite SI entries.
I like Bob Woodward a good bit more now. Great stories, thank you!
Next time we need to differentiate playboy centerfolds, I hope we pick a different month. Something weird about hearing one's name used in such a reference as this. May I recommend September? I have yet to meet anyone named September.
https://www.linkedin.com/search/results/people/?firstName=September&lastName=Smith&origin=SEO_PSERP&sid=m6%2C
Let's not forget January Jones ("Betty Draper") of the TV series "Mad Men." And I just happen to have a family member whose maiden name was April May.
April may, but her sister won't.
There are people named February, October (.005% of the population) it’s hard to be unique!
I knew a girl named December.
Interesting! I googled and they are all used. 😊
Could be worse. My first name is also a slang term for a toilet and for the customer of a prostitute.
My (real) first name is now a term for a manager-demanding shrew.
Does that start with a "c" or a "k "?
Definitely with a "K." None of that "Caryn" stuff.
Actually, I was thinking of another c-name, often muttered under the breath and usually by male managers.
Then there's another c-name -- two words, hyphenated -- often muttered under the breath AT male managers.
Damn! I've long liked that name. Too bad that several well-publicized shrews ruined it. I predict that the name will regain popularity....in about 25 years.
Uh huh. Not trying to hide something from us as the former "Miss" April, are you ? We're (more or less) adults here.
All my magazine work is free for viewing online and won't get you fired for accessing it at work. It's all about fire and building codes and historic fires. I guess if that's what floats your boat.... just don't tell me about it.
Years ago, when my wife was a teaching assistant, one of her students said he had to miss a class because "he had water on his artificial knee". Turns out, that's a real and legitimate condition.
If you describe yourself as an "Alabaman," you will be unmasked. Those of us who actually live here are Alabamians.
I’m mostly with you on fat, but the very article you linked to states:
More important, not all fats are alike. Saturated fat, found mainly in meat and dairy foods, contributes to clogged arteries and cardiovascular disease.
I’m pretty sure that would include pastrami.
Sean Clinchy
Sclinchy@gmail.com
Joel Achenbach should have come [pun alert] up with a better pseudonym than Mr. Load. I would have recommended Mr. Richard Wad.
Speaking of video porn and premature ejaculation. I believe I mentioned my brief dalliance with porn here a while back. As the writer of an erotic epic (at least of the scenes/transitions to and from the bed and kitchen countertop; the male actor's ostensible role was as a countertop installer --- don't ask) --- I may have also mentioned my uh...professional diligence...in being on the set daily and finding (to my utter disappointment...) that the experience was almost completely nonsexual and certainly not titillating. Somehow, the sight of the naked-as-jaybird actors casually chatting in between puffs on what I assume were cigarettes or being put through their paces by the director killed the buzz (and everything else). Might say I was completely deflated.
What I want to know is whether the countertop was laminate, granite, or quartz.
Funny you should mention the countertop. Or at least wryly amusing in the ways of Hollywood. If I remember correctly, it was a laminate of some kind. But since the "set" was the director's house and he apparently wanted/needed a new kitchen countertop (charged to the film's budget, of course), the reason the male actor had the (momentary) role of a would-be installer was probably for the necessary verisimilitude.
Did the soundtrack include, "Come on in My Kitchen"?
Funny you should mention "soundtrack." While there was some minimal incidental music to presumably give it a much-needed touch of sophistication (in vain, I might add) --- what was far more interesting from an audio or sound standpoint was post-production dubbing. Apparently the moaning, groaning and other vaguely sex-induced noises required from the actors weren't deemed sufficiently voluminous or erotic enough ("realistic" is never the point here) especially at the supposed uh...climactic moments...which numbered (as I recall) at least four in a relatively short period of time. I guess even faking it four times would tend to take its toll on those supposed sex-induced noises.
I imagine that the dubbing session was a hoot.
No hoots. Just whimpers, moans, groans and as I recall, a few needle-pinning "OH YESES!!"
Going for the "Nice Try" degrees of separation award here. Hands down (and I have had the pleasure of momentarily spiking my cholesterol on pastrami sandwiches from all the "best" places in the Apple) -- THE best is (was --- it's been awhile) the no. 19 from Langer's Deli in LA's Westlake neighborhood, diagonally across from MacArthur Park. Yes, that "MacArthur Park" wherein songwriter Jimmy Webb mystifyingly lyricizes (among other things), "... Someone left the cake out in the rain..." (and, in so doing, unaccountably gave actor Richard Harris a hit). Which in turn ---and here comes the satisfying, if not astounding conclusion --- is the ditty dubbed by Dave Barry (yes, that Dave Barry) as the "worst song ever written" with "the worst lyrics" ("Dave Barry’s Book Of Bad Songs").